Il circo di Mistero
by fightergirlkl
Summary: Il circo di Mistero- a worldwide traveling circus nicked named "The Blessed gift." With acts so unbelievable, and beauty unlike any other, many would gladly die happy after witnessing just one show. But if The Blessed Gift was that easy to find, it wouldn't be so mysterious...They were after all, the pride of the underworld.
1. The Time-Keeper

Summary: _Il circo di Mistero_- a worldwide traveling circus nicked named "The Blessed gift." With acts so unbelievable, and beauty unlike any other, many would gladly die happy after witnessing just one show. But if The Blessed Gift was that easy to find, it wouldn't be so mysterious. The wondrous circus sends no notice and merely appeared on the day of the show, flyers would mysterious appear at one's front door along with tickets that granted entrance. But Il circo di Mistero had a dark secret. They were after all, the pride of the underworld.

Warning(s): Language, maybe slight gore. Fluff (sometimes)

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR; Akira Amano does

Author's note: This idea came to me like a bullet…I'm serious. I had to wait a day before I could write it down cause it was…midnight and I had school the next day. In class, I was so jittery, I kept thinking up plots and all that…n I had to wait through hw. It. Was. Hell. So I hope u guys like this, cuz I'm really psyched.

Ps. **This is kinda short but it's kinda the prologue so longer chaps later.**

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**Chapter 1: The Time-Keeper**

**_Tick tock_**

****The Time-Keeper grinned, revealing stained teeth from his years of smoking up on the old clock tower.

**_Tick tock_**

"Almost time." His eerie voice ripped through the silence like a dagger.

**_Tick tock_**

Oh yes, this was what he was born for. To be entrusted with such an honor: the gift of bell tow. But tonight was special, _very special_; it was the night of the mysterious circus. "The talk of the town," his raspy voice tried to imitate an Italian reporter, yellowed eyes narrowing cheerfully in the dark.

The town's lights showed steadily, sounds of parents ushering their kids to bed. Yes, yes, to bed they would go—as if they would listen to such a command from one who was hypocrite themselves. He saw a car drive by, blackened from the windows to the tires, oh yes: _beautiful. _

_Beautiful_: that was one world he would use; to describe the wonderful circus that is. Magnificent, heavenly, ah true…

"True…True…"

Yes, he was mad. Was that needed to be said?

**_Tick tock_**

There goes the clock, just a few more seconds…oh the lights, the brilliant lights.

_**Tick…**_

The grand music

_**Tock**_

Colors…

_**Tick...**_

Seconds to go, "Let's get ready, children…" hands balanced on the rope, a wide mad grin stretched his wrinkled cheeks.

"Tock…"

**_Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…_**

Oh that wonderful sound, oh his beautiful clock, dear old clock.

The sound of a door open snapped his attention back to the town, pupils dilated in an insane manner. Yes, yes, one family slipping out through the door, scarves wrapped tight and buddle in layers and layers of wool and cotton.

_No Italian silk in this weather…_

And another family made its way out into the street, bluntly happy, oh so delighted. They have received the invitation: **_You are invited._**

Silver tickets, delicately carved letters…

The Time-Keeper frowned as he reached in the folds of his raggedy clothes; he placed the cellphone up to his ear.

"Tick Tock," he said.

"Up to your old tricks Timekeeper," The voice said, with a hint of exasperation.

"You know who I am," the man grinned wickedly, sourly brightly. "Should you not?"

"I do," the voice replied, "What's your point?"

The Time-Keeper laughed, "There is not one!" he sobered, leaned against the brick wall with a slick smirk on his lips. "Your message?"

"Ah, It's going to begin soon…you should hurry back."

He laughed cheerfully, "Missing me so soon?"

"Yeah sure," the voice replied quickly, with not a hint of sincerity. "But please, hurry back?"

"I will," he said, and adding, "We are family…"

"No," said the voice stubbornly, he had to bite down an amused chuckle. "We're friends."

"Ku fufufu~" He laughed, "Stubborn aren't you, Tsunayoshi-kun?"

"Well sorry for my personality,"

"No no," said the man. "I love it."

"Haa~" 'Tsunayoshi-kun' sighed, "Hurry back…"

"I will," the teasing tone now disappeared from the man's voice, replaced by an unusual kind voice. "See you soon, Tsunayoshi."

"Yeah, see you later Mukuro."

The man smiled softly before holding the phone at arm's length, giving it one last glance before releasing it into the depths of darkness below.

"Leave no trace and no evidence," he muttered, mist slowly engulfing the Time-Keeper.

Hands were now covered with black gloves, eyes mix matched, hair of dark lavender. With practiced grace, he walked to the very edge of the platform and hopped onto the railing.

The illusionist gazed down below, "Oh…that's a long way down." He shrugged, hands held out like wings as he grinned devilishly. "…For a human that is."

With that, the man jumped off the railing and into the darkness below. With the sound of air against man, everything was silent. There was no dull sound of the boy hitting the ground below, no clicks of heels against the pavement.

No, all was left on the ground was pieces of a shattered black device. And in the air above...well.

There was mist.


	2. The Unnamed Game

Summary: _Il circo di Mistero_- a worldwide traveling circus nicked named "The Blessed gift." With acts so unbelievable, and beauty unlike any other, many would gladly die happy after witnessing just one show. But if The Blessed Gift was that easy to find, it wouldn't be so mysterious. The wondrous circus sends no notice and merely appeared on the day of the show, flyers would mysterious appear at one's front door along with tickets that granted entrance. But Il circo di Mistero had a dark secret. They were after all, the pride of the underworld.

Warning(s): Language, maybe slight gore. Fluff (sometimes) a bit of shounen ai in this chap i guess.

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR; Akira Amano does

Author's note: I know it's uneventful here. But it's really hard describing the circus to i'll try in the next chap.

I drew a pic of Tsuna's costume, but i gotta fix it up a bit so i'll post the pics on the deviant account later on k?

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**Chapter 2: The Unnamed Game**

It was a matter of who would surrender first.

They were both in the same business, and both recognized the rules to this unnamed game. It wasn't some complex challenge of power and strength, nor intelligence; nothing so elaborate. The unnamed game was one played by every Mafioso and was played more than just once, it was a symbol of pure will-power, and relied on luck.

The man was inexperienced, a newbie as they called. He was fat and ugly, eyes small and squinted while his lips were eternally set into a nasty scowl. This was _Giano Bompiano_, the boss of a small time famiglia: **_The_** **_Imperatori_.** They were known (more or less) for their cheating ways and lies, treachery to their allies and scandals even within the family. They were not in the least bit aware of their current reputation and made no move to change their ways. Therefore the Vongola was called into action by those who were betrayed by **_The_** **_Imperatori_**, and seek the help of "The Blessed Gift."

Tsuna's face remained stoic as he listened to the man drone on with his lies, stifling a yawn.

_Idiot_

He estimated them. Did they really think that the Vongola—that _he_, had been able to be where they were with false strength and powers that didn't exist. That he wasn't capable of sending the oversized man flying out the tent flap with a single punch. He could tell that _Giano_ created **_The Imperotori_**with a certain image in mind; that he thought of this as a game… The real world was not as simple as the digital one. For one, people could die.

The balky man relaxed back into his seat, a smug smirk on his lips as he sipped a glass of wine. "I must say," he began, "I was quite surprised."

Tsuna smiled warmly, "At what,_ Signore_?"

"At your age," he drowned the whole glass, exhaling deeply in satisfaction. "So young yet so corrupted,"

He heard Hayato let out a barely audible growl to his right, and laid a delicate hand on his friend's clothed knee. Tsuna supposed that the man meant it as a compliment, but to him, it was an insult to his very nature. His friends knew that well enough, and were itching to 'politely' correct the fat fool.

"I do not believe in violence, _Signore Bompiano_." Tsuna replied coolly. Unlike his guardians, he was not as easily angered, such small irritations did not move him. His devilish tutor had made sure that that specific statement was burnt into his mind. "Not all of us resort to murder."

A roaring laugh escaped his lips, rough and loud, holding a hand to his belly as he cackled. "Priceless Vongola; incredibly priceless," he hollered.

Hayato's fists clenched as the distinct smell of an oncoming storm filled the air. Making use of the man's disadvantage of not understanding the Japanese language, the boy hissed: "He has gone beyond the boundaries, Juudaime. Insulting you like this."

Takeshi placed a holding hand on the boy's shoulder, "Control Hayato," he muttered.

"Tch," said the boy "he disgusts me."

Tsuna, with his smile, placed a comforting hand on his friend's, "Its fine Hayato," he said. "calm down, ne?"

The bomber took a deep breath, offering his dear boss an assuring smile. "Hai Juudaime."

Grateful, Tsuna shifted his attention back to the man, apologizing with as much sincerity has he could attain, weaved intricately into his words. "It was a personal discussion," he explained. "I hope you understand."

"Yes, yes." Said the man, "Companions are such a drag these days aren't they? Feathers ruffled at every trivial matter, useless dogs I say."

Now that struck a nerve. Swallowing his bubbling anger and ignoring the smirk that his male illusionist wore, Tsuna merely inclined his head and steered the conversation back on the right track. "The mission is the truth, I trust."

"Hm," hummed the man. "All truth and no lies,"

_Liar_

Tsuna leafed through the pages of the detailed report on his mission, eyes catching certain words before handing the paper to his right. "I shall carry out the pursuit myself. You have the payment?"

The man reached in his pocket, pulling out an envelope and dropping it onto the table. "Eighty-five grand I believe,"

Tsuna nodded yet made no move accept the money; instead Mukuro was the one to inspect the payment. _Giano_ showed his surprise with a deep frown, "Why are you entrusting your money to a _dog_?"

The boy felt his finger twitch but remained passive nonetheless, "He is loyal to me; I trust him with my life." He said.

"…Then I shall say no more." He stood up from his seat, swinging his scarf around his neck before pulling on the jacket of his suit. "Now if all the money is there…"

Mukuro gave a nod, a sly smirk on his lips.

Tsuna stood to offer a hand, "It was a pleasure, _Signore Bompiano_."

The man accepted the outstretched hand, his grubby fingers in contrast with the boy's graceful ones. "I look forward to meeting you again, _Vongola_."

"Preferably as friends," added the boy, eyes darkening over. "I do not tolerate liars,"

_Giano _chuckled, releasing the brunet's hand and heading towards the tent's entrance flap. "I tell the truth," With that he disappeared from sight.

Tsuna waited till the heavy steps were no longer within distance and his intuition announced that it was safe. With a heavy sigh, Tsuna trudged over to the throne in the middle of the tent. "I'm glad it's over."

All the anger Hayato had bottled up was now let loose, he exploded with rage and broke a decorative crate with his bare fist. "That filthy bastard," he said. "I should have killed him right there and then."

Ryohei frowned, moving to one of the many unoccupied seats in the tent. "Calm down Tako-Hedo, you're not the only one angry." He fell back into the seat, drained.

"Onisan's right," said Takeshi, standing beside the annoyed bomber with a lazy smile. "I wished I had sliced the bastard clean through."

Lambo froze mid bite of a cookie, "I'm eating, Taka-nii."

"Oh," The boy chuckled, giving the younger a small bow. "Gomen,"

Kyoya had ignored the rest and stalked right up to the brunet, "Herbivore." He began, "He's my prey."

Tsuna nodded, eyes closed. "Got it,"

"Ku fufufu~" Mukuro leaned against the throne's side, "You're awfully complaisant today, Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna opened a bleary eye, "Was my hunch correct?"

"Dead on," he said chuckling. "It was eighty-five grand, and all counterfeit."

"I knew it," Tsuna grumbled, shaking his head sadly and his head lolled back. "A man like him wouldn't last a year in this world. And lying straight to my face, does he wish to die?"

"Is that why Nono wanted you to take this job?"

"Yeah, he knew all along."

Ryohei laid his head on a pillow, through his gaze was pointed towards the brunet, "So what, we just go on with the show?"

"Yeah," he yawned, "Speaking of which, it's almost our cue." He got up from the seat and ascended down the platforms. Ryohei hesitantly released the comforting pillow as he straightens out his shirt and follows the younger boy. The guardians followed their boss towards the entrance, fixing their slightly disheveled clothes and quickly sneaking a glance at one of the full body mirrors.

Tsuna stretched, letting out a deep satisfying breath at the crack of his spine. With a roll of his shoulders, he glanced back at his friends, "Ready?"

"Let's go Juudaime," Hayato had calmed down from his out roar, eyes shining with loyalty as he gazed caringly at the boss.

"Ready Tsuna," replied the relaxed sport addict, his katana strapped to his waist.

The brunet smiled at the replied before heading out the flap, smiling at the sight before him. Acrobats they had gathered were scattered around the tents, extras who had volunteered as part time doers and animals chatted about, silencing at the appearance of their one and only boss.

Lambo had rushed out of the tent a bit later, half a cookie in his mouth as he hurried to his brother's side. Tsuna smiled affectionately as he laced their fingers together, kissing the boy's forehead.

The crowd clapped at the boys' appearance, they had seen the sight many times before but it never ceased to amaze them. They were all so handsome.

Tsuna laughed cheerfully, "Everyone," he yelled, reaching over the noise. "Let's put on a great show!"

The cheer grew in agreement, as the sound echoed through the night.

The show tent was packed full, people of every color, every status were there. For this one night, nothing else mattered; it was just this one show, this one chance of a lifetime, they could put aside their differences for now.

Children chattered about excitedly, as adults did alike. The seats were arranged in a semicircle as the stage was concealed from the public eye by a large, heavy black curtain. Hormonal teenagers chatted excitedly about how they pictured the main acts, and about the female trapeze artists.

Backstage, chaos commenced.

Ryohei rushed out with a bag full of explosives, searching for a certain silver-haired bomber. "Oi Tako-Hedo, your dynamites!" he yelled.

"_Cazzo_" (Fuck)

**_5_**

Tsuna groaned as he felt arms snake around his waist, "Mukuro, stop teasing Kyoya."

The illusionist merely grinned, "Ku fufufu~" he nuzzled the boy's neck. "You look delectable."

"Herbivore, die."

**_4_**

Lambo pouted, "I want grape juice!"

The lady smiled sweetly, ruffling the boy's dark hair. "I'll get you some after your act, alright sweetie?" she promised.

Lambo beamed "Some for Tsu-nii too?"

"Of course,"

**_3_**

"Baka!" Hayato growled, patience running thin"Let the girl put on your stinking makeup!"

Takeshi groaned, hiding his face into the folds of his arms. "It's itchy!"

"Get the fucking up!"

"Why do I have to? I look good either way!"

"…"

**_2_**

"Get away from my property or I'll bite you to death."

Tsuan paled, inching away from the murderous teen. "K-Kyoya, p-please, control y-yourself."

"Ku fufufu~ your property? I've already claimed him for myself."

_Dear god…_

**_1_**

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, you have been invited to 'The Blessed Gift!'"

The tent exploded with cheers and whoops, feet stomped at the bleaches in an excited manner.

"You have heard stories, you have heard legends, but you have never seen it like this. For a single night, you shall feast your eyes to an extravagant display that is bound to be the highlight of your entire life!

"Impossible deeds, immortal men! Tell me, are. You. Ready?"

The crowd screeched, hyped by some unknown drug, adrenaline pumped through their veins as their hearts pounded. Oh it was insane, absolute madness. But for a single night, for one night, they could let go.

"I present, the one, the only: **_Il circo di Mistero_**_!_"

_ One night of guilty pleasures_


	3. Ill Corvo - Don Giordano

Summary: _Il circo di Mistero_- a worldwide traveling circus nicked named "The Blessed gift." With acts so unbelievable, and beauty unlike any other, many would gladly die happy after witnessing just one show. But if The Blessed Gift was that easy to find, it wouldn't be so mysterious. The wondrous circus sends no notice and merely appeared on the day of the show, flyers would mysterious appear at one's front door along with tickets that granted entrance. But Il circo di Mistero had a dark secret. They were after all, the pride of the underworld.

Warning(s): Language, maybe slight gore. Fluff (sometimes) a bit of shounen ai in this chap i guess.

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR; Akira Amano does

Author's note: This story is really hard to write...cuz of the form of langauge i'm using. The KHR characters are gonna be...kinda OC here, but pretty much the same. There're will be more humor later on :) be patient with me k? PM me for messages or if you have any suggestions or ideas.

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**Chapter 3: Ill Corvo - Don Giordano**

His grace and elegance was a façade, it was one heck of a lie but still, it was a lie. Tsunayoshi was not a calm man under any circumstances; he was born clumsy and would stay so till life itself was destroyed without a trace. The Vongola was quite knowledgeable at how many times of which Tsunayoshi had tripped over his own feet or even more absurd; air.

Never did it bother them to the slightest, he was after all, their boss, a natural kind boy with heart that loved more then it could love. He was stubborn, selfless, clumsy, shy, timid, and many more of which a certain Arcobaleno tutor could easily recount, but none of them could deny the brunet's incredible ability to completely stun both his allies and enemies, with his unfathomable power.

The very kind he was displaying at this circus.

Flames spun in every direction, charring the ends of the audience's hair—not that they even cared—and the glow of blazing, pure flames against the black tarp was nearly suffocatingly beautiful. His guardians watched with proud gleams in their eyes, no matter how many years they had known him, no matter how many times they had seen him produce those flames…it was breathtaking every time.

Kyoya smirked silently in the darkness of his corner; he was going to demand to have another fight with the brunet real soon. Even the predatory gaze that a certain pineapple head held wasn't enough to spur his murder spree.

_Not nearly_

"Mukuro Rokudo," said the steely eyed teen, ready to spring off and launch a deadly attack at any moment. But at least he would try reasoning first, courtesy of a certain herbivore. "Either you stop staring at Tsunayoshi like a perverted pineapple, or I hack off your head and serve it on a platter."

The illusionist merely grinned, "Feeling a little blood deprived?"

"If it is your blood…than yes,"

Lambo frowned at the sight of his two brothers glaring daggers and tugged on the sleeve of Mukuro. "Don't tease him, Mukuro."

"Ku fufufu~ But don't you see how entertaining it is?"

"Yes," said the boy. "I like annoying Tako-hedo too—"

"Why you—"

But Lambo ignored the bomber and continued to as if he hadn't been interrupted. "But today is the circus; you wouldn't want to interrupt Tsuna-nii, do you?"

The two older boys stared at each other before coming to a silent agreement. Kyoya growled softly, "You were saved," before returning to his spot.

Mukuro merely chuckled and ruffled the hair of the lightning wielder, "When did you gain a way with words?"

Lambo merely grinned, "I learned that using just the right words at the right time could get me out of a boatload of trouble in a very short time period."

Not so soon after the argument ended, Tsuna's act was up and he bowed gracefully, sending a sincere and kind smile into the crowd who swooned. With that, he turned his back and walked back into the lion's mouth and back to them. His face was set in stone as he gestured for his friends to come with him, since the next turn was Yamamoto and he wasn't up for at least two other acts.

They were lead along a familiar hallway, acrobats running in and out of their dressing rooms as guards milled about, they all gave a bow at the sight of the boys before resuming their duties from before. Not very long, they came to a dressing room quite larger than the rest. The reason was because it held seven dressing rooms inside. A VIP area you could say, it certainly wouldn't be an exaggeration. Once in the room, they all stared at their leader, their boss. They watched as he went over to a large, elaborately decorated sofa, and watched as he face planted into one of the pillows and let out an ear piercing screech, not to mention it was also incredibly feminine.

They all cracked a smile at their boss's personality before spreading out throughout the room, the illusionist and the skylark settling father away from the group and choose spots completely opposite of each other's which was probably in everyone's best interest.

Tsuna finally came up for hair, his eyes with their usual innocence instead of that narrowed gaze and with that nostalgic gleam of panic. His hair was disheveled and they could see the brunet couldn't care less.

He pointed sharply to Mukuro saying, "You," and pointed to Kyoya, "and you, why didn't you interrupt the act?!"

He gazed with such seriousness at Lambo that they all lifted an eyebrow and stifled chuckles. "And you mister," he said. "Why the hell did you stop them?"

Lambo grinned cheekily, his head cocked to the side. "I thought you liked being the center of attention, Nii-chan."

Tsuna winced, "Oh please, spare me from the tragic memory."

Ryohei blinked in confusion, "Oi Sawada…Wasn't that EXTREMELY two minutes ago?"

The brunet nodded, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face. "It was horrible!"

"I thought you did wonderful, Juudaime!" exclaimed Hayato, a rare teasing smirk on his lips.

"Ha~ya~to~" whined his boss, falling to his side and dropping face first into the same pillow from before.

"Hayato's right Tsuna," agreed Takeshi, grinning every so brightly. "You were very cool! Everyone's eyes were glued on you!"

Tsuna whimpered into his pillow yet again, before turning to the side and gazing slightly wearily at his friends. "You guys are so mean~"

They all shared a happy laugh; even Kyoya cracked a small smile. They all knew that the brunet had problems with being the center of attention ever since they were young. As stated before: Tsunayoshi was a very shy boy.

The brunet gazed at a nearby clock before nodding solemnly; he stood up and went to change into a more…unnoticeable attire. "It's about time," he said, shrugging off his jacket. "Are we all clear on what to do?'

Hayato shot out of his seat, "_ Si,_" his fists clenched before he bowed sharply, "Please reconsider Juudaime!"

Tsuna shook his head, taking a moist towel and wiping off his makeup, "Not this again,"

"Please," repeated the bomber, "Please wait till after our acts Juudaime!"

"I'll be fine, Hayato." Tsuna smiled at his overprotective friend, kicking his one of a kind boots and slipping on some cheap shoes. "It's one man…"

"You should listen to Hayato on this matter, Tsuna."

The brunet sighed, looking up at the black haired boy before him. "Not you too Takeshi."

The boy merely shrugged, flopping down onto a crouch with his arm draped over the back, "You know our nickname in the underworld don't you? I mean…related to our _other _business…"

Tsuna picked out a worn out brown cotton vest, "The Grim Reapers?" he guessed. They had earned quite a few after all.

Takeshi shook his head before a smile graced his lips, "They call us 'The Six Handsome Devils and Their Blood-stained Angel.' Meaning…you're different from us Tsuna, in more ways than one."

The boy merely waved a dismissing hand in return, fixing the collar of his shirt. "I know, I know," he drawled. "You all are dark and handsome and I am plain and innocent—"

"It's the opposite…" Brown eyes belonging to a trained assassin followed the movements of his friend as the brunet reached to take a sip of wine. He chose that moment to drop the bomb. "You're hot, Tsuna."

The brunet spluttered upon hearing the comment, feeling the bitter liquid burn in his throat as he coughed into a napkin, eyes wide. He could hear his dear friends chuckle with amusement behind him as he sent a joking glare, "W-What…are you talking about?"

Mukuro spun his trident absentmindedly before sending a very interested gaze to a certain brunet, "Oya Oya~ Do not tell me you have just realized."

"Sawada," Ryohei deadpanned, in all seriousness. "You are extremely slow."

The boy huffed with indignity, "Well I apologize than!" He grabbed the brown crow cap from the hooks and tightened it around his defying hair. Gazing into the mirror, he frowned at the sight of his delicate pale skin. Even years in England which had been nicknamed: _The land upon which the sun never sets; _had not been enough to tan his pale exterior. Though he had to admit, he had received several questions as to how he kept his skin so fair…needless to say he never knew how to answer those kinds of inquiry.

"Tsu-nii…"

Tsuna gazed at the boy through the mirror, nodding his head. "Yes Lambo?"

The boy bit his lip. He was against this mission, as many of the other guardians were…but he knew that even though Tsuna was their trusted and most precious friend. He was still a boss, an assassin, a killer.

It had to be done.

And so, he gave the brunet the most convincing smile he could manage and whispered, "Be careful…"

The brunet froze, snapping his head around to face their youngest member before a soft smile made its way onto his lips. "I will," he said. "Don't worry."

Yet both of them knew, in this dark world that they were born into; that they chose to grow up into…wishes for one's wellbeing had no effect.

…And sometimes provided the opposite and more negative turnout.

xXx

He gasped in surprise as kick buried itself into his gut, before parrying it away with a fatal attack of his own, effectively rendering the assailant unconscious. With a hand on his injury, the boy coughed out blood, using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. His voice came out calm, "That was a dirty trick…" He sent a blood curling glare into the shadows, "Don Giordano."

The man cackled from the shadows, before stepping into the light of the candles. His eyes were lidded as he playfully twirled a revolver in his left hand. The Italian man grinned at the boy before him, clearly amused by their positions. "Foolish as ever I see," he drawled, voice laced with a thick Italian accent "Attempting a mission by your pitiful self,"

"My men need not to waste their time with such scandalous fools,"

"Fools?" the man barked, waving his gun at the Mafioso. "Entering enemy territory with nothing but a knife and the clothes on his back, who is the fool here?" The Don pulled out a crate with his foot and sat down lazily. "You may be a boss but you are still a brat at heart and mind, you Vongola are all the same."

"And what about you," the boy righted himself, the pain already dulled. "Don Giordano, boss of Il Corvo, a ruthless famiglia of assassins, taking upon himself such a disgraceful mission. Have you already thrown away your pride so easily?"

Giordano laughed merrily, "Disgraceful?" he yelled, standing up and advancing towards the captive, a mad grin curled the edges of his cracked lips. "That I am." He held a gun at the captive's head, a young man no older than twenty. The young man's eyes were wide with deep set amber, brown hair mussed with his former resistance, and a camera hung around his neck.

The Don grinned at brunet, "Tsunayoshi Sawada, do you know the gun held to his young man's head?" He received a dark glare in return. "No? Well, it is a beautiful Smith and Wesson revolver, Model 10, runs like water; under my careful care it holds no resistance when I pull its trigger. And the sound of its gracefully crafted bullet against a human's skull is a sound unlike any other…Should be a quick kill don't you think?"

Tsuna gritted his teeth, "Get to the point."

"Kneel before me, Tsunayoshi." Said the Don, a crazed gleam in his eyes, "Whimper like a brat and beg for your freedom."

And to everyone but Don Giordano's surprise, the boy did just that. The young man held as captive screamed and struggled. As a reporter, he had covered many of Vongola's actions and specifically, those of young Don. He was amazed with the boy's kind heart, and many other acts to which ensured the safety of his companions. He also knew that a don must never bow and must never beg. It was the silent rule that all Mafioso obeyed.

Decimo was the last one he wanted this to happen to.

"No!" raged the young man, struggling desperately against his bonds despite the gun to his head. His eyes flared with anger, and his teeth clenched. "Stand up Decimo! Stand up! Forget about me!"

The Il Corvo don knocked the barrel of the Smith and Wesson against his head, sharp pain stabbed at his temples as he grunted painfully. He felt a liquid drip steadily down the side of his face, no doubt blood from the freshly inflicted wound. His collar was jerked harshly by a calloused hand to face the scowling face of a mafia don.

"Sit still brat," he hissed, pressing the cold metal against the young man's head yet again. "Or else there's going to be a hole through that brain of yours."

With that, the reporter was dropping to the ground, head throbbing and his vision, blurred. He watched helplessly, managing a whimper, as Don Giordano made his way to Decimo, placing a finger under the boy's chin and forcing his gaze up.

Tsuna felt his breath hitch at the action. He may be a Mafioso but he was still young. His mind had no yet been tampered by such sinful actions. Don Giordano knew this quite well, and he planned to take advantage of this information to the best of his abilities.

"You are quite the looker, Decimo." said the Don, his face inching closer as his grin turned crazed with insanity. " I wanted to capture you and sell you for a pretty dime…" he chuckled darkly, breath smelling of cigarette. "But I couldn't just let such a rare opportunity wash away, now could I?"

The Ill Corvo's hand gripped at the brunet's waist pulled the boy to his feet. The man's breathe ghosted Decimo's neck as he licked his lips excitedly. "So exquisite," he rasped, fingers trailing up the young don's arm. "Skin to pale and soft…" he grinned, "I can't wait to break you my dear Decimo."

He felt the young don tense in his arms and ticked, holding the boy tightly. "Ah ah~" he sung, "Do not forget, the moment you show that rebellious side of yours the little reporter shall drop dead."

Tsuna blinked at the words, before he lifted his eyes and gazed nervously at the man. "W-What will you do?" he asked, voice quivering with fear.

"Hm," hummed the don, enjoying his power. He lifted a hand to brush the don's pink lips, licking his lips at the same time. Oh he would enjoy this. "I shall teach you a game." He said.

The young don cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips. "A-A game?"

Don Giordano chuckled darkly, and nodded as he embraced the boy intimately, hand slipping lower as his voice dropped to a low baritone. This was a side of the boy that he loved: small and helpless, just like a child. "Yes," he said, "A very enjoyable game that you will find most _pleasurable._"

The reporter wanted to scream, he wanted to kill Don Giordano with his own hands and dump the body in a garbage dump. That man was trash, a being unworthy of the title human. His blood boiled, and his fists clenched till they drew blood. And he made his decision.

"Kill me!" he screamed, eyes set. "Kill me!"

The man merely laughed, and gave him an amuse gaze. "Suicidal aren't you?"

"Let Decimo go," he pleaded, still struggling against his bounds. His life was nothing, but the young don had to stay alive. Vongola would die without its light; that he knew all too well. "Kill me and let him go!"

"Hm,"

"Wait!" the reporter's eyes snapped to Decimo's figure, eyes wide. The boy's fists were clenched tight and he seemed as to force his voice to work. "I-If…I do as you say, you will let him go, is that correct?"

Don Giordano chuckled, and wound his arms around the young don's waist. "That is right, my little doll." He said.

Decimo closed his eyes tight, his expression as pained as he ducked his head. "…Then I will comply to your wishes…master."

The Il Corvo don cackled with amusement and joy, as the cries of that brat of a reporter fell deaf to his ears. The little prince was all his, all his.

The edges of Tsuna's lips quirked up, "Like hell…" His fist reared back before barreling into the don's gut. He brought the other fist to collide into the man's chin, efficiently eliciting a painful cry and a satisfying crack. The boy grinned, "I'd ever say that." He finished.

Don Giordano stumbled back into his men, his eyes narrowed as he clutched his battered jaw. He glared hard at the boy, and gestured to his men to hold the boy at gun point. "You fool," he rasped, "You ignorant fool; do you think I would lie about murder?"

"No," the boy replied, flexing his wrists and digging out a pair of black gloves. His gaze flickered with a sad understanding, "That is why I'm here.

"Don Giordano…" men donned in black formal wardrobe and fully equipped appeared from the shadows and from tent entrances; they all wore a simple pin on their collars: The mark of the Vongola. Tsuna's eyes flickered to a nearly golden hue, flames flickering on the palms of his hands as he said, "Welcome to hell."


	4. Cajetan De Luca - Burning

Summary: _Il circo di Mistero_- a worldwide traveling circus nicked named "The Blessed gift." With acts so unbelievable, and beauty unlike any other, many would gladly die happy after witnessing just one show. But if The Blessed Gift was that easy to find, it wouldn't be so mysterious. The wondrous circus sends no notice and merely appeared on the day of the show, flyers would mysterious appear at one's front door along with tickets that granted entrance. But Il circo di Mistero had a dark secret. They were after all, the pride of the underworld.

Warning(s): Language, maybe slight gore. Fluff (sometimes) a bit of shounen ai in this chap i guess.

Disclaimer: I do not own KHR; Akira Amano does

Author's note:** I know, i'm re-updating this story for apparently no reason right?**

**but i'm changing the author's not.**

**Cuz...well, i'm stuck...really stuck. I have no idea what to write...such a humongous writer's block...**

**even worse? ...whenever i have a writer's block...i get a artist's block. yeah -_- i'm kinda cranky. But oh well right? Srry if some of u were expected me to add an omake to this or something like that. Forgive me ne?**

**Live, Smile, and hug those fluffy pillows! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: ****Cajetan De Luca - Burning**

Decimo barreled forward, using his flames to accelerate the moment he saw the man's finger twitch on the trigger. With a hand clothed with orange flames, the bullet collided with his palm and melted before touching the black of his gloves. Tsuna tsked in annoyance as he watched the edges of his makeshift gloves, fray from the use of 'real' flames. He spared a glance back to ensure the safety of the photographer before swiping his leg under the gun man and twisting himself to aim a kick into the man's side; a satisfying crack resounded.

Don Giordano shivered as he felt those sunset amber eyes narrow and focus solely on him. The sounds of his men being brought down one by one became muted. He heard every shuffle of the boy's clothing, every step against the hard dirt, and every crackle the flame elicited. In all the years he had spent in the underworld, never had he felt so terrified for his life. He was gazing at a demon; a child yes, but a demon nonetheless.

The young don's hair flowing wildly in the breeze, dark brown locks in contrast with the boy's pale, delicate skin. Those narrowed eyes, no longer innocent, were tinted with fearful amber. The boy radiated of confidence, power, dignity, _control_. Sparks flew at every step, upon realizing all was silent, he saw that all the men—be it Vongola or Corvo—was watching Decimo with pure admiration, and fear. He was no different.

"I-I beg you," Giordano tossed his gun and his knives; he fell to the ground on both knees and clasped his hands together. Nothing was more humiliating to a don then begging, but he wanted to live. He wanted to stay _alive._ "L-let me go, please; be kind, Decimo, be kind."

"Kindness?" the young Decimo's eyes burned with fury, his flames flared with newfound power. His delicate features were casted into a dark illumination as he set a tenebrous gaze on the petrified don. "You do not know the definition of kindness."

He poised his right gloved-hand over the quivering don, feeling his heart race as the light in his palms grew. One would think in all the years he's done this, in all the years that he committed the same sinful crime…he would have gotten used to it. But burning a man, to him, could never be satisfactory.

The young adolescent closed his eyes and looked away, teeth grinding at each other in a fruitless battle of control. He released the energy, and engulfed the man in flames. He quickly returned his arm back to his side and gazed wearily at the burning figure. The man would not die, but there would be pain, intense _torturing _pain. Such was the punishment for deceiving the Vongola, for deceiving his _famiglia_.

With the Corvo famiglia under control, and its Don receiving the proper retribution; his legs gave out and the boy fell to his knees. He heard the worried murmurs of his fellow Mafioso and felt his heart ease, if just a bit, from guilt. Everyone in the Vongola knew that its young master hated to fight, and despised killing, those two were on the boy's top 3 'would have done unwilling' and they held no doubt.

A man in his mid-thirties rushed over to his dear young master with a soft wool blanket, draping the cloth over the boy's shoulders and kneeling beside. "Here young master," he placed a coarse hand on his shoulder. "The night is cold,"

Tsuna smiled gratefully and pulled the blanket tighter around his body, "Thank you," he shifted to stand despite his earlier show of weakness. The man said no words but merely stood up along with the young don.

The young photographer watched in awe as the flame on the boy's forehead flickered out, golden amber eyes darkening to a dark cinnamon hue. He watched at the young don approached him with a genuine smile and crouched just before him. The young man's wrists were relieved of their limitation while the don had been cornering the Giordano, but the red marks of unwavering will still remained.

"Are you alright?"

The young man blinked away his temporarily inability to speak and nodded with a large grin on his lips. "Never finer, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Vongola Decimo."

The boy nodded with his own blinding smile, "Me too, you were very brave Signore…ah…"

"**_Cajetan De Luca_**," the photographer offered, accepting the blanket of a female guard before returning his attention back to the don. "You may call me Caj, Decimo."

The young man spotted a wince grace the young boy's features as the man beside let out a hearty chuckle. Caj gazed in confusion at the duo and at the amused expression of the fellow Vongola _Mafiosi_. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," replied the man, "Nothing at all. You see our boss here," he gestured to the blushing boy, "Despises the use of titles among allies. He had changed much of Vongola's traditions with his angelic deeds, such is one of them."

"It's not as if I hate them," argued the flustered boy, resembling an average teenager more than a high ranking Mafioso. Caj watched with amusement as the don rushed to correct the man as well as his own words at times. "I-It's j-just awkward to have an adult address me a-as S-signore….NOT," he burst, "that I mean any offence. I-I'm flattered, really!"

The same female guard that had given him the blanket couched beside the don and ruffled his hair fondly. She smiled and affectionately gave the boy a peck on the cheek, before addressing the grinning photographer. "This is why we love our Decimo, a brilliant inferno in the midst of tragedy and sadness."

Tsuna nearly pouted at the compliment, opting to brush away hand in a childish manner. "Don't flatter me so much,"

Caj laughed brightly at the reply. Never in all his life would he think to have a somewhat normal conversation with murderers. But as of now, that was the last thing on his mind. "I-I don't mean to be rude, Decimo." He hesitated as a pair of kind brown eyes faced him. It was a high demand, impossibly suicidal. But he wanted to take the chance; he wanted to prove to his boss and his coworkers that the mafia was not all evil.

"Speak your mind, son." The man said, patting the young man on the shoulder. "We shall not question your decisions as you have not to ours."

Caj nodded shakily before taking a deep breath, he locked his eyes on the young don and asked, "Would you mind an interview?"

The immediate reaction he received was just as he suspected; looks of pure shock and curiosity. He was sure he had just ruined his somewhat good relationship with his savior, but was proved incorrect when the don voiced his reply.

"Of course!"

The young photographer blinked in surprise, "A-Are you sure?"

"I've accepted millions of interviews," he clarified, straightening up as he smiled down at the young man. "I don't truly mind as long as they don't invade too far into my personal life. I can set up a meeting with our allies; you may do it there if you wish."

Caj nodded hurriedly, eyes beaming with amazement as he thanks the young don repeatedly. Tsuna laughed softly as he waved away the man's words, "You tried to save me despite your poor condition," the boy leaned down to slip a crumpled paper into the man's cold hands before locking eyes. "This is the least I can do."

As the young don stood up Caj un-crumpled the paper and saw that an address was quickly scribbled upon there, along with a small gold pin pinned to the paper. "That's the address," his head snapped up at the boy's voice, "Wear the pin when you arrive. I shall contact you when I had informed our allies."

Caj's brows furrowed in confusion, "I have not given you my number…"

Tsuna paused just before the flap of a tent entrance, held up by a nearby guard. He turned to look back over his shoulder and gave the curious photographer a mysterious grin. "You need not to." He waved back at the young man, "I'm afraid I have matters to attend to. We shall meet again," he entered the tent, "**_Cajetan De Luca._**"

xXx

He could feel their frustration and anger bouncing off the tent walls as they gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

_…They're mad._

A dark growl escaped Kyoya's lips as he knocked over an expensive imported vase. Tsuna winced at the action.

_Oh yeah…very mad_

He felt his heart race as Takeshi calmly cleared his throat; the normally calm rain was a raging hurricane. "Do you mean to tell us," he began, "That the Giordano Don nearly raped you?"

Tsuna bit his lips as his eyes snapped back down to his lap. See the professional hands of Ryohei dabbing his bloodied wound carefully with gauze. He could see the older boy grit his teeth as those bandaged hands sparking with yellow flames gently touched his skin and mend the tissues. He was forced out of his contemplating by a soft yet warning call of his name.

He nodded slowly.

He heard Hayato give a sharp intake of his breath before letting it out forcefully. He could feel those intense green eyes eye his wound before locking onto his ducked head. If even his loyal, faithful right hand man looked ready to murder and his dear calm rain, emit an aura of death…he didn't even want to think about the others.

The young don lifted his eyes only to gaze into furious green. Oh yes, the storm was tornado. "Juudaime," he winced at the forced gently tone, but nonetheless gazed into his friend's eyes. "Did that _man _touch you?"

Tsuna felt himself pale as he bit his lips, "I-I already b-burned him—"

"That," Hayato smiled devilishly, "Was not my question, Juudaime."

"A-ah…" he smiled nervously, "I already punished me fairly enough, please just—"

He gulped as the truly intimidating figure of his dear cloud traveled close and closer. He swallowed thickly as those steeled eyes locked him in place and a hand was placed right by his head. "Answer the question, Herbivore." Kyoya's voice was calm but the boy knew that he was running out of patience.

Tsuna laughed softly, "…Ah…he…" he pointed to his chin, "Here…" to his neck. "…and here," and pointed to his arm. He saw the faces of his friends contort into fury and incomprehensible anger, but he wasn't finished.

Lambo saw this, "Continue Tsuna-nii."

The boy ducked his head as he pointed to his lips and winced as he felt the temperature of the room drop several degrees.

Ryohei halted his activities as he gazed with unhidden anger up at his dear little brother, he along with Mukuro loved the boy with all their hearts. Having little sisters of their own, Tsuna was their little brother. And so, in unison they both asked: "What else?"

Tsuna bit his lips as he shoot from his seat and pointed to his lower back. Ryohei cocked his head in confusion, "He touched your back?"

Tsuna shook his head.

And soon, they realized what their brown haired angel was hinting to and their blood boiled past humanity limitations. As the room reached a nearly freezing point, they all stood up and grinned cheerily at their dear boss, except for Kyoya who opted for narrowing his eyes and a sly smile.

One after another, they each gave their own excuses and calmly exited the tent. Tsuna sighed in exasperation. He knew what they would do, he had known since the first time a target had treated him in anyways…improper. For reasons unknown but the target would always end up as a crumpled mess after his guardians 'excuse' themselves from his line of vision.

He was grateful for their protection.

But there was this part of him that felt bad for the poor Don.

His friends could, after all, pack quite a few memorable moments in the time span of 20 minutes


End file.
